


Ripples

by Cornerofmadness



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Malcolm Bright Gets a Hug, Malcolm Bright Needs a Hug, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:15:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22890850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cornerofmadness/pseuds/Cornerofmadness
Summary: Malcolm isn’t ready to say goodbye.
Relationships: Gil Arroyo/Jackie Arroyo
Comments: 6
Kudos: 33
Collections: Bite Sized Bits of Fic from 2020





	Ripples

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vanillafluffy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanillafluffy/gifts).



> **Disclaimer:** Not mine, Chris Fedak and Sam Sklaver owns it
> 
> **Notes:** written for vanillafluffy in comment_fic for the prompt Prodigal Son, any, a single rose on the coffin

XXX

_No one is actually dead until the ripples they cause in the world die away. - Terry Pratchett_

It was too beautiful of a day. Funerals should be gray and rainy, reflecting the pain within. Instead Malcolm contended with the gentle warmth of the sun on his face and the fluffiness of the clouds. Of course, this wasn’t a funeral, not really. That had been a few months before. He’d been there, barely able to stay on his feet. Ainsley had propped him up at one point, sitting next to him in one of the horrible parlors funeral homes kept for visitations, too formal, too neat, too uncomfortable.

Malcolm’s boss at the FBI had almost been relieved to see him go, giving him off two weeks as an emergency leave. They were probably happier he had been out of the field than empathetic for his loss. Jackie had been the first funeral he’d attended for someone he _loved_ deeper than words. He’d been to family funerals for elderly relatives he’d barely knew and staked out ones as part of the job. Those hadn’t much impact. Jackie’s funeral gutted him.

His mother should have been there but she hadn’t come, hadn’t called, had done nothing at all. No, that wasn’t true. Malcolm knew she had paid all of Jackie’s medical bills but had done so anonymously so Gil couldn’t refuse the money. Still, Jackie had been so kind to her after all her friends had deserted her and his mother had repaid that with jealousy because he liked spending time with Jackie. How could his mother not know he loved her but loved Jackie too? He was angry with her, hadn’t spoken to her in weeks in fact. He would have to forgive her but not yet. The hurt ran too deep.

If he closed his eyes, he could remember Jackie’s coffin just after they had closed it before taking her away. A single red rose rested on the glossy wood. Gil had placed it there with trembling hands. He barely held together and Malcolm had been helpless to comfort him. All he could do was cling to him, his voice robbed from him by emotion. He didn’t speak for hours, maybe not even until the next day. That part was blurry. He hadn’t eaten at the dinner. He did remember he and Ainsley helping to arrange all the casseroles, meals and desserts shoved into Gil’s home but it hadn’t felt like home anymore, not with her gone.

“Malcolm?” Gil stared at him and Malcolm got the impression that wasn’t the first time Gil had called his name. 

He shook himself like he could dispel the grief. Behind them was the Milton home in the Hamptons and in front of their bare feet was the sea. Jackie had enjoyed coming out here in the times that his mother was warm toward the Arroyos since she did blow hot and cold. Jackie loved the ocean, and for all that she was a tough Bronx girl, she loved nature too. She had come out here for the last time earlier in the year when it was obvious she wasn’t going to make it. Malcolm promised to bring her back one last time. She rested in Gil’s hands. How could someone with a personality that big fit into a box so small? “She loved it here,” he said, his voice shaking.

“She did and she’ll be here always.”

That was true. So long as they could pay the taxes – which wasn’t really much of a hardship for his mother who was if nothing else, excellent with business – this family home wasn’t leaving his family. Malcolm nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Whenever the emotions welled up, his voice was always the first to go.

“I have something for you.” Gil took a small translucent piece of glass in the shape of a worry stone out of his pocket. He put it in Malcolm’s hand.

Malcolm held it up to the sun. In it were bits of grey. “A worry stone?”

“I had two things made with some of Jackie’s ashes. One that’s staying with me and that is for you. It’s what she wanted,” Gil said, his voice soft and tight.

Malcolm’s fingers went nerveless and he nearly dropped the piece of glass. That would be all he needed. He barely got his trembling hand into his pocket and he let the piece of glass - let _Jackie_ \- rest there. “Thank you…that’s inadequate but for once words are failing me.”

Gil clapped a hand on Malcolm’s shoulder. “It’s okay, kid. I know.”

Malcolm nodded. Gil stepped to the water’s edge and Malcolm judged the wind before taking up a position upwind from him. Gil opened the box and together they watched Jackie’s ashes blow out into the surf. For a brief moment, he thought about blaming the salt spray for the wetness on his face but why lie to Gil about this? The man who had been there for all the hardest parts of his life was crying too. Neither of them could find the words to say goodbye but Jackie would have forgiven them. She had always been so kind.

Finally, Gil closed up the box, his eyes still watching the horizon. Malcolm put a hand on Gil’s back. Gil turned, wrapping Malcolm in a strong embrace. Malcolm wanted to linger there because when it ended, they’d have to go back to their new normal, a life without her. In the end, they retreated quietly to his mother’s home. Malcolm rubbed the smooth glass surface of the memento mori Gil had given him. Jackie wouldn’t be gone because of the memento mori. She would linger with him in his heart and that’s what he needed to remember, no matter how hard.

**Author's Note:**

> glass memento mori made of cremeation ash are real things.


End file.
